


for all the times Seth Meyers has said Stefon

by butterscotch (finedae)



Category: Saturday Night Live
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Idiots in Love, M/M, Miscommunication, Recreational Drug Use, This Fic Has Everything, a backwards love story, and look, happy endings, is that ben affleck, no, shy the lawyer and piss artist, that thing where theres
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-06-21 23:21:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15568593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finedae/pseuds/butterscotch
Summary: the many different ways Seth Meyers has saidStefonover the course of their relationship. from, 'you can't say that on network television — oh my god, Stefon!' to the soft, sleepy, muffled ''ove you, efon.' the changes in tone, litany, and familiarity;OR,a backwards retelling of how Seth Meyers and Stefon Zolesky (and later Meyers) came, they met, they loved, theycame.





	1. Seth and I are versatile

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot say if this was written with love, but it was written and now you are reading it. enjoy!

the different ways Seth Meyers says _"Stefon"_

 

"The next guest I'm about to introduce is _everything,_ renowned New York club owner, promoter and ghostwriter. Part time juggler and full time gigolo — wait, what? — and the father of my children, Stefon Meyers, everybody!" 

Seth beams with pride throughout the entire interview, the rhythm familiar as Stefon leaves the audience in stitches with surprisingly true anecdotes, banters with Fred during the commercial breaks, and Seth stepping in to stop Stefon before he crosses network censors. 

An online review read, 'Myers seemed as in love with his first guest as Jimmy Fallon does on his show on a nightly basis.' 

 

x

 

Stefon was just thinking how there should be a game show called "Where Were You When Famous Celebrity Died?", where regular civilians tell their harrowing story of where they were when they got to know of the passing of their favorite celebrity, and make it all about how it affects _their_ life, when Seth found him curled up on the couch with Frisbee.

"Stefon, I'm so sorry. I just heard..." His voice is soft, gentle in all the ways Stefon doesn't want to hear.

He contemplates for a second, an inner monologue of a bitter, estranged Boston woman with a glass of Pinot noir precariously swaying in her hand as she drunkenly rants how, 'your father never loved me. he was a deadbeat father, and now he's just dead.' 

Instead, he lets Seth wrap his arms around him and simply shrugged, "The stars missed him too." and felt Seth lean into him, as Frisbee chewed on a hole in Stefon's skinny jeans. Bark Ruffalo barks at the clouds, from his window seat. Baby Al sleeps peacefully in his crib.

Neither of them mention it but Ziggy Stardust echoes their walls the whole week.

 

x

 

Seth Meyers is a nagger. He is also not the perfectly put together man he is on TV. He is one Trump tweet away from pulling a 2007 Britney... 

Is what Stefon would quote to the tabloids if they were going through a messy public divorce where both sides smear each other for property rights. Sadly, Stefon is in a happy stable marriage and has no need to call up TMZ. 

"And then he goes, _'Stefoooon,'"_ Stefon enunciates two octaves deeper which is exactly what his darling husband sounds like, "'The moms on the board say formula milk is not that great for the baby, do you think we should...' He's always on those mommy blogs, and I've told him, if he wants fresh breast milk I'd be happy to lactate him."

"For our son." He adds as an afterthought. Albert is their absolutely adorable old man looking toddler, who is currently being babysat with Uncle Josh and Frisbee and Bark Ruffalo, and ever since they brought him home Seth drives himself nuts scouring the Internet on how to be world's best daddy, even though Stefon got him that mug years ago.

Shy, accomplished lawyer and even more accomplished piss artist, nods fervently as he sips his chamomile tea and switches the topic to his latest art installation. 

Stefon and Shy are currently at an old CVS that became a Starbucks that became a Laundromat which got shut down and now became a brunch place, co owned by Stefon and lazily named drag queen Melvin In A Dress. They had had plans to convert it into a new club, with the washing machine techno music and drag performances but located in the heart of Brooklyn, gentrifying white hipsters would much rather have a reason to day drink, because being a high functioning caffeine junkie is much better than being a high functioning alcoholic. 

So somehow, Stefon and Melvin In A Dress became the unlikely owners of a brunch hotspot, served entirely by drag queens. 

"For you, sweetheart, it's on the house," Tina Gay serves him a bottomless mimosa, in six inch heels on concrete, "Lawd knows it's stressful being married to a straight man."

Stefon smiles graciously. Another thing about his shared business venture is that the gaggle of lost tourists and pretentious upper east side New Yorkers weren't exactly their ideal demographic, and so their servers were told to gently rebuke their customers, enough to make them uncomfortable but not so much to file a discrimination suit. 

These molly popping, fake Birkin carrying attendees however LOVED being insulted by 'oh my god! It's like rupaul, but for brunch!" service, and overnight they came a success. Honestly, Stefon believes if they enjoy their cashew salad with a side of roast, and are willing to pay $40 for diluted alcohol, then so be it.

Stefon tells Shy of the time he kneeling on the altar, the altar being Seth Meyers and he was on his phone the whole time, reading about the Mueller investigation instead and not a peep of appreciation. Shy gasps, and "Oh no!"'s at the right moments, which is why he's paid 500 dollars an hour in legal fees. And the next morning, Stefon dressed as Anthony Scaramucci, the human cocaine and pegged Seth. 

"Well, that's one way to keep the spark alive." Shy nods dismissively, delicately having a Thin Mint chocolate chip cookie and brushing the crumbs off his condom latex pants, with his legs folded. 

"And, and, and, he's just so concerned whiny these days. _'Stefon, don't drink and come home on your own! Stefon, just call the company car! Stefon, get 8 hours of sleep and 3 meals a day!"_ Stefon rolls his eyes, because everyone knows the best part of bar hopping drunk, on an empty stomach and completely sleep deprived, is never knowing if you'll make it home again. Whose apartment hallway is it anyway? How'd you end up in hotel from The Shining? 

"So your problems are your husband cares about your baby, you have an active sex life, and he wants you to get home safe?" Shy lists off, disagreeing with the barbaric and restrictive demands. Stefon isn't paying him $500/hr for this. 

"Oh, shut it. Not every marriage is creepy old Floridians watching as your fiancé get stung by a jellyfish on the beach at sunset." Stefon snipes.

Shy, and his lovely French artisanal lampshade artist wife had the most beautiful engagement involving a ring and getting rid of jellyfish stings with bodily fluids and Shy had almost immediately realized he was going to change his lifestyle. So one day, you're in your twenties and you're gonna live forever and you're sweating vodka and ecstasy and the next day, on your 30th birthday, you get engaged and want to settle down. So now, Shy's on a new vegan diet where instead of cutting out the meat and dairy he's cut out the booze and narcotics, and takes a lot of meat and dairy instead. They really do grow up so fast.

"Oh, I love her. My new wife." Shy says in contentment, and Stefon drinks to that.

 

x

 

Another great thing about being married to Seth Meyers is that he's an irrational crazy person with no control over his emotions and Stefon loves him. 

It's playoffs season, and Stefon still doesn't know or care how football works but Seth goes all out, every year, along with his dad and brother and they deck out in their Pittsburg Steelers jerseys and scream at the TV with FaceTime on.

Stefon had once, in passing, remarked on how funny it is how hardcore of a Steelers fan Seth is when he's from sweet ol' New Hampshire, and Seth had just stared at him point blank silence and stony faced. 

David rings the doorbell, and Stefon lets him in. He had get in through the back entrance because people keep thinking he's the guy from Batman V Superman, even though he looks _nothing_ like Henry Cavill. And it's always nice to have David around, especially since Seth has glued his ass to the TV and even made poor Frisbee anxious with all his shouting, who was also attentively watching the game. 

David and Stefon talk in the kitchen about their latest projects, Stefon's club charity fundraiser for kids with autism and leprechauns with Hep C, David's new indie movie about orphan boys and mothers called Martha. A lot of the cussing from the living room has gone quiet and after a while, Seth enters the kitchen to grab a bottle, much more subdued and Stefon watches it all unfold in slow motion, like Britney and Justin breaking up.

"Hey, buddy, did ya guys win?" David smiles, unassuming and pats Seth on the shoulder.

Seth flinches, his shoulders tense and his eyebrows furrowing, all those lines creasing and going into defense mode when he's about to go on a rant, as Stefon watches delightedly.

"Do I _look_ like someone whose team just won? No. Why would you even ask me that? Do I ask _you_ 'Hey, remember when your movie at the box office?' Even though it didn't but if it had, I wouldn't tell you that! Jeez, David, read the room!" Seth rants off before storming off, and David's still confused when Seth comes back to the kitchen.

"... Oh, and one more thing!" Seth returns, remembering David is a Patriots fan which is absolutely unacceptable and a shit team and Seth's totally not bitter they made it past the playoffs, "The owners of these teams are billionaires who use public money to make their stadiums and profit off of it, so I don't know how anyone can ethically enjoy these games further." 

"Okay, that's enough from you. Go do something useful and paint the nursery, sweetie," Stefon interjects and gently steers his irrational hypocritical husband away, "Let the paint fumes calm you." 

Seth, to his credit, does start painting the nursery. A cool yellow that Seth hated and Stefon loved, so they compromised and it's yellow now. The nursery in which, in a few months, their firstborn is gonna be. With an unassembled crib in the corner, he sits down with beer and reflects on the game, and if only they hadn't missed the 40 yard touchdown. 

But more importantly, he reflects how emotionally attached he is to the sport and how much he lets it affect his mood, and acknowledging that his little outburst was a little uncalled for, even to a Patriots fan. He thinks of toxic masculinity, and especially in this room of his unborn son, how his dad made him a huge fan of the Steelers and the only time he ever saw his father cry, and how he felt that day and how it shaped him as a child to the man he is now?

Does he want to pass that onto his son? 

 

After a while, Seth walks out with a stronger resolve and finds his husband humming to himself to M.A.S.H's theme, and sets dinner. 

"David had to run out for a bit, he's got a little cameo in that film about bad guys fighting more bad guys. It sounds absolutely shit, but could be Academy nominated for Best Makeup and Hairstyle, who knows!" Stefon lists off cheerfully, serving a generous amount of spaghetti bolognese on Stefon's plate that David had brought over and Seth wonders for half a second if Stefon had poisoned it, before taking a huge bite. "Are you feeling better, sweetie?" 

"Mhm," Seth struggles in his rush to swallow, "I do, and there's something I need to ask for from you and David."

Stefon leans forward, with an eyebrow raised and nursing a wine glass of hard vodka. 

Seth takes the love of his life's hand in his, and stares into his piercing blue eyes and says in all seriousness, "Stefon... Do you know where they'd sell Steeler onesies for babies?" 

The look on Stefon's face could only be read as immense regret for not poisoning the food. 

"We agreed on _one_ cult! It's goodbye Hanukkah." 

 

x

 

A few weeks later, Seth apologizes on air about being an asshole after relaying this story to the audience and what his husband's family has to deal with all the time, David's cameo movie does get nominated for an Oscar, and Stefon finds a seamstress online who specializes in jerseys for babies; mostly cause it's fun to see Seth cry and not because sports is an integral part of his childhood and bonding with his father and brother and that's something Seth as a father would like to continue on with his child, while not forcing performative masculinity on him. Seth's an ugly crier and it's hilarious. 

 

x

 

The greatest joke Seth Meyers ever played wasn't provoking Donald Trump to run for president half a decade prior, rather that he managed to convince America he is every bit of the plain white Wonderbread he presents himself on TV to be, with his disarming nonthreatening smile and good posture.

Stefon didn't steal away the Taylor Swift of late night television with his magical dick, although he is not allowed to divulge further information about the magical properties of his penis as per his lawyer. In fact, when the Supreme Court got their collective heads out of their asses for once and gay marriage was legalized all over the country, Seth suggested they should renew their vows in every state every anniversary and Stefon said why not make a roadtrip out of it, because 50 years is rather daunting. And it had to be Andy Samberg who had to tell them off, raising excellent points such as, "No!" and "That is literally the dumbest idea," and "You guys wanna get married in _Florida?!"_

 

So while Stefon may be the devil in 80's anti smoking commercials who stole the innocent Meyers with the allure of homosexual nicotine, but it is divine justice that Seth Meyers is almost legally required to watch CNN everyday, what with the 2016 elections and having to write topical jokes about it. Which means a significant portion of their married life consists of watching Anderson Cooper onscreen, in bed. 

There's no bad blood between them, Stefon's ex fiancé is very chill with them and even went on Seth's show and they still go to the same gym but it's absolutely wonderful to have Seth lackluster frowning as Stefon gushes over how great Anderson looks, covering the latest coastal hurricane in his classic black t-shirt long just to rile Seth up who graciously takes the bait.

"He doesn't need to be in a black tee shirt, that's just... How's that helping anyone? Are the clothes supposed to tell you how much danger there is out there? Like a proper coat means you're fine and a crop top means you're fucked?!" He rants, with no fire in his words, but goes off on a tangent regardless.

"No, that's the dress code for GEMMA," Stefon frowns, which is New Jersey's hottest club, sliding his ice cold feet on Seth's warm back for comfort and hearing a yelp.

"And you should put that on the show, call it 'Seth Meyers goes _crazy!'_ and just rant about how you think Thanksgiving and Christmas are too close together." Stefon suggests off the top of his head, mostly cause a segment like that would finally exposè Seth Meyers's facade as the salt and pepper hair, calm and composed late night talk host/almost actual newsman at this point, and do wonders for his blood pressure.

"They are!" Seth exclaims, with a twinkle in his eyes as he indulges in Stefon's ideas, "I don't think the network censors are gonna bypass it though." 

"Have one of your writing clever people dub over how it doesn't represent NBC's views and they almost lost their jobs airing it, making 3 people total go 'is that a 1994 homage to Martin Lawrence's infamous monologue?' No, it's Late Night with Seth Meyers is crazy!" Stefon sticks his tongue out at Seth, but Seth's mouth is slightly agape.

"You," He gasps at Stefon, leaning over, "are one of the 3 people to get a reference from 1994 SNL. Stefon Zolesky-Meyers," Seth points at this chest, "were a 90's SNL fan like the rest of us!" Stefon gasps in fake horror at the insinuation that he was like the rest of them in the 90's, unless it's about making out with Lance Bass lookalikes.

Seth now climbs atop Stefon, both legs on his sides, and arching his back entirely too cocky as he gloats, "What else have you been hiding? Did you have a crush on me?" 

"Of course I did." Stefon sets the facts straight indignantly, he liked it AND he put a ring on it, then pulls his husband's smug face in for a kiss as Anderson Cooper is on their television, just as it should be.

x


	2. a lot like you, except he likes me for me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic should've been written in chronological order but it wasn't. kind of like life. do enjoy!

"I got it!" Is the first thing Seth Meyers says on the phone at 5AM, waking Stefon up from his little catnap, not that he'll ever know. "I got it, oh my god I can't believe it."

"Which STD is it?" Stefon asks, half asleep.

Seth laughs, "It's Late Night! Jimmy's getting Tonight, and I got his!" He sounds all shaky, and happy nervous like being on adderall. It's very infectious, Stefon remembers Seth talking about trying out for Late Night and saying how his odds are low and they'd probably pick a woman this time but how it's his dream to work where Letterman and all the other late night greats did, and now Stefon feels incredibly happy for Seth.

"You deserve it," Stefon smiles, imagining Seth in his pajamas and grinning like a fool. "Late Night with Seth Meyers, has a ring to it." Everything with Seth Meyers has to ring to Stefon.

"Oh my god, that doesn't even sound real. No one in the east coast outside of the network knows yet, you're technically the first. Gonna call my parents in the morning, and cast'll probably figure it out by then." 

Stefon feels warm, knowing Seth just got the best news of his life maybe and called him first. It's nice, to be that important to someone. It's being the dog that brings the basketball team to victory level of importance.

"Oh shoot! I'm calling you cause — word's officially gonna break at the NBC party, well it's mostly for Jimmy cause Tonight Show is a much bigger deal but mine too. I wanted to ask, do you want to come as my plus one?" Seth sounds kind of out of breath, and Stefon imagines him doing push-ups. In his pajamas. At 5 AM.

"As a date?" Stefon asks warily, narrowing his eyes. For anyone a with functioning head can see that they're together, sexual tension like two heterosexual talk show hosts who pretend to like each other when the segment ends but Seth has never initiated something so... Official.

"Yeah, my plus one. Everyone from work will be there, I want you to be there too. This means a lot to me and I want the people in my life who matter there." 

_people in my life who matter._

"Consider me RSVP'D." 

"Thanks, buddy. Oh, I'm getting another call—" _love you, bye_ Stefon's brain auto fills as the call disconnects and what the fuck. 

Stefon smiles and stares at his ceiling, he didn't even know it was possible to feel this proud and happy on behalf of someone else. And he kept repeating those words in his head, an official date to a work event, and being someone in his life who matters, like Clyde asking Bonnie to shoot up a bank with him. 

Love is strange.

 

x

 

Stefon is aware how much this means to Seth, so he's been buzzing like a bee all day long. 

Fuck social convention, but for Seth, he'll try. Stefon decides to wear his least in-your-face long sleeved tee, and then calls all of his contacts until Shy lends him his formal attire for court; black slacks, and a ladies black blazer. Stefon even tones it down with the eyeliner and rings, looking almost like someone who'd fit on Wall Street and he kind of hates it but he's going as the network's latest late night host's plus one so he can pull off appearances for one night.

When Seth comes to pick him up, he looks surprised to say the least. "You look... Different?" He tries.

"I tried to go for 'normal'," Stefon kisses his cheek and makes sure there's food out for Bark Ruffalo. "Do you like it?" 

"It's strange; but I do!" Seth agrees. 

The NBC party is buzzing with famous TV people that Stefon absolutely does not know beyond the cast of SNL. He entertained himself by playing a game of who has had the most Botox, cause no matter how great your surgeon is, the wrinkled hands always give it away. At least there's an open bar, cause Seth had entered and immediately forgot about Stefon, leaving him to a corner by himself where people occasionally mistaking him for someone important try to talk to him, and he just stares at them point blank until they leave. 

Seth was right though, this was more of a Jimmy Fallon party than a Seth Meyers, everyone congratulating him on the Tonight Show although Stefon doesn't know anyone personally who would wake up so early to watch the Tonight Show.

Stefon finally sees Seth on the far end of the room and goes towards him, cause the women with extremely taut young faces and wrinkled hands were creeping him out. 

"Hi." Stefon says shyly, as he approaches the circle of Seth, two older men, Jimmy Fallon, and white gown lady on his arm.

"Oh hello," Jimmy says, incredibly perky, "I'm Jimmy, and this lovely lady is my wife, Nancy. Say, aren't you on that update sketch? Oh man, you're so great, I love your club bits!" 

"Ah, yes. Everyone, this is Stefon," Seth cuts him off smoothly, directing the entire circle's attention to him, "He's my uh—a work colleague." Seth says, to the two older men.

Stefon smiles weakly as he absorbs those words, something in his mind going very, very wrong but he can't articulate it. It's just a feeling, a feeling of _this is not right,_ like sirens blaring and it's engulfing him uncomfortably. Before he even thinks of it, he can feel it, and it's a kind of sick feeling that makes you want to throw up.

 _He's not in love with me._

 

"What _was_ that?!" Stefon hisses, bringing Seth out in the empty balcony, his light blazer doing nothing from the cold seeping into his bones.

"What was what?" Seth asked, genuinely confused and a little annoyed at being dragged out like this from the middle of the party.

 _"'Colleague?'"_ Stefon laughs mirthlessly, "So, Stefon is your colleague in front of old conservative melted faced network executives, Seth Meyers' 'friend' when you need party favours, and your fucktoy when we're alone?" 

A cold gust of wind makes Stefon shiver but the whiskey from the open bar and bitter hurt in his stomach keep him standing his ground, as Seth looks absolutely stunned. "What? Stefon, no! Where is this coming from? I—You know I care about you. I only said colleague cause they'd be likely to recognize you from update, it doesn't meaning anything e—"

"Sorry, I'm just another character on Weekend Update." He bites out bitterly. All of Stefon's unspoken insecurities of how people view him as a character made up for TV, and how people like him for who he is to them and not for Stefon himself, and how he and Seth have shared this unspoken 'thing' between them for years now like staring directly into the sun and wondering why your eyes hurt, all of that comes bubbling up in an incoherent rant.

"No, you're not and you know that. I only said that word because these execs, you saw what happened with Leno and Conan, they don't like one thing they cut you out completely. We're indispensable. It truly didn't mean anything more than that, or that I don't want you here because I do." Seth tries to reason, but all Stefon hears is _if they don't like one thing about me... If they don't like that I like men... If you were a pretty, petite woman on my arm I wouldn't have called my date a colleague..._

A rational part of Stefon's brain knows he's being irrational and paranoid and is having a really bad trip and probably shouldn't act entirely on his tumultuous emotions. The unfortunate thing about being a high functioning substance user is that the higher the dosage the more you think you're in control, so all his irrational screeching thoughts override the rational. 

"Oh, fuck you and your conditional heterosexuality. Stefon is leaving." And Seth looks so wide eyed devastated Stefon almost stops for a second.

just say, _"I'm sorry if what I said hurt you, I truly did not mean it like that and I am not ashamed of you. And I am not ashamed to be with you."_ just say, _"please don't go, we may not have discussed the exact perimeters of our relationship but you mean more than what people may assume of us."_ just... fight for Stefon. 

Instead, in a defeated voice, Seth asks, "Do you want me to get a cab for you?"

All of Stefon's internal demons dance, his worst paranoid fears confirmed.

"Goodbye, Seth Meyers."

 

x

 

Seth spends the next couple of days kind of completely miserable, not knowing how he fucked up but knowing he definitely fucked up. Poehler's advice was "just go talk to him and apologize" which was much better than Samberg's "do an impromptu monologue on TV that you love him and then play it off as a skit for the producers." And Seth had scoured everywhere for Stefon, calls, texts, voicemails, emails, handwritten letters, his apartment and every club he had ever mentioned in passing and every local drag show and either everyone in New York owed Stefon a favour big enough to keep quiet, or Stefon had skipped town.

Seth remembers sometime last year, around August, when him and Stefon went across Bryant Park to get a bagel and saw a man in a hotdog costume fight an unlicensed Mickey Mouse mascot, and Stefon had laughed and offhandedly said something along the lines of, "I'd rather be brutally murdered in 7th Avenue than have to live somewhere like, Utah, for a long natural life. Gah." 

Seth had laughed and wrinkled his nose at the thought of Stefon getting murdered and said that Stefon was always game when they went on roadtrips together, so party monsters can exist out of New York, and Stefon had replied wryly that those trips only confirm how superior NYC is, and then stole a bite out of Seth's bagel.

Seth clearly recalled seeing the shadow of 30 Rockefeller Center, or Times Square as quintessentially New York City, and yet standing in front of him with his Ed Hardy shirt, ripped jeans, multiple rings, and flat ironed streaked hair, and a bit of cream cheese stuck at the corner of his mouth, Seth could most associate him with the city he came to love.

"Tomorrow's end of the season." Cecily remarks, driving Seth out of his happy memories stupor. 

"Yeah, I know?" Seth asks, his eyes hurting from all the work he buried himself in after all his search went futile.

"So, Stefon is contractually obligated to show tomorrow to complete all his appearances this season." Cecily pats his sorry state and hands him a coffee.

Seth perks up, suddenly alert. This is his chance. He is not going to fuck this up.

 

x

 

Heartbreak is bitter. Stefon much better prefers the bitterness of a little Snow White friend. It's a good thing half of New York City owes him a favour, he thinks, dialing a good friend and CNN correspondent if he's down to f-marry.

 

x

 

_"He's a lot like you, except he likes me for me. And we are getting married."_

_"Hey, go to him."_

_"It's too late."_

_"It's never too late. Follow your heart."_

_"DJ Baby Bok Choy!"_

_"Follow your heart, bro! Follow it!"_

_"I love you, Stefon!"_

_"I love you, Seth!"_

 

Stefon's wedding has _everything._ Located at Marble Collegiate Church, this holy matrimony with the Vanderbilt boy is the hottest event in New York. Full of veteran scene kids, sudden romantic realizations, unfazed Wolf Bliztzer, and Anderson Cooper getting 360 degree knocked out. And look who's that running away from the altar to NBC Studios, after instigating a fight where DJ Baby Bok Choy sacrifices himself; is that a fake news anchor and a meth addled party monster? No, it's "For Weekend Update we are Seth and Stefon Meyers, goodnight"

 

x

 

Declaring your love on national television and planning to elope even if you're technically coming out to your NBC bosses that their Late Night host pick isn't the perfect heterosexual white male? Easy peasy. Actually going through with it once you've realized what you've done and the adrenaline wearing off as your respective friends and family are a collective "???" at you? Not very lemon squeezy.

To be fair, for most of the season finale afterplay/their _engagement_ party minus the rings Stefon was also "???" as all of Seth's normal human coworkers came to congratulate them and Stefon has to wonder if his coked up brain finally gave up and this is a passing hallucination in his coma. His brother, David is here somewhere too, who was really happy that Stefon was following his heart, but right now he was nowhere to be seen as some people mistook him for the guy from Argo. He hugs Lorne Micheals very tightly, trying to discern a sense of whether this is all an elaborate prank through body heat alone. Stefon's Long Island psychic could do this easily, but her degree in human behavioral psychology probably helps.

"This is the part of the story where they tell the kid the rockstar who's being nice to him was actually sent by the genie hospital cause the kid has terminal cancer." Stefon drawls in Seth's ear, their arms locked as they've been for the whole night, and nudges his untouched vodka and fun to him.

Seth nods at someone yelling congrats drunkenly and replies, "That's Make-A-Wish Foundation." 

"Oh, so you are aware." Stefon watches a cast member pay for three diluted syrupy Long Island Iced Teas and drinking it by himself in a corner, and feels Seth hand tighten in his.

"This is real. I meant every word I said. I do," Seth looks directly into Stefon's eyes and Stefon suddenly wishes this bar wasn't such a respectable, FDA approved place that he could his blame the knots in his stomach on the services. 

"And if I've ever made you feel like I don't like you for who you are, I've already failed. Cause this wasn't jealousy or fear of commitment. My mom always says, when you know you know. And with you, Stefon, _I know._ I like you so much. Late Night is a gig. You are not a gig." Seth Meyers is the most long winded, glassy eyes and too much gesticulating drunk ever, and Stefon kisses him to shut him up. 

Someone in the bar wolf whistles and a few people cheer, and when Stefon's done with him, his husband to be looked adorably rosy cheeked, out of breath, and absolutely happy.

x

"Don't think I didn't notice you doing this to me." Is the first thing Seth says to Stefon as he crawls out of bed with a bad case of bed hair and a worse hangover, after checking his phone whether he'd been unceremoniously fired although he kind of remembers Lorne saying something about how he'd make sure that doesn't happen. 

Stefon, to his credit, shrugs innocently and continues making breakfast like a picture perfect domestic housewife. Seth would be mad if he wasn't so impressed at how unbothered Stefon looks after drinking much more than Seth and by the looks of his apartment, woke up at 6 AM and cleaned everything, organized his movie collection and what looks like a trip to the grocery store with how stacked the refrigerator looks.

"Don't know what you're yapping about, Frisbee, Bark Ruffalo and Stefon went on a nice walk, and a nice shopping spree, and then a nice dance class where a BeeGee's impersonator does a bougee on a human trampoline." And hands him a glass of tomato juice. Frisbee, the tiny anxious little greyhound barks in agreement and Bark Ruffalo, an old mutt barks in general, and it's kind of total betrayal that Seth's dog likes Stefon better than him. Well. Their dogs now.

"I'm not even gonna ask," Seth shakes his head and feels even dizzier, and bites into his French toast.

"I'm marrying you no matter how many drinks you put in me to figure out if I have an alcohol cut off point before I turn straight again." Seth calls out into the kitchen, and if Seth thinks he can get out of bed before noon after saying such sweet things, well Stefon's gonna take a leaf out of their honeymoon period and perform some bellissimo fellatio. 

 

x

 

Not everyone, however, was convinced.

"But _why?_ Like, sure he's cute and all but is it for the money? Cause I can respect that." One of the human firehydrants as he likes to be called in his place of work, Carl, tells Stefon at SPLICE.

Stefon groans exasperatedly in his tequila bottle like Mariah Carey when her water is room temperature, "Because Stefon loves Seth Meyers." Why would Stefon marry Seth for money? When he could've had the heir boy prince to the Vanderbilt throne. 

"Yes, but _marriage?"_ was a statement Stefon had to be faced with over and over again, by the very people who were at his previous wedding because it makes sense for Stefon, on a heartbreak induced coke binge, to plan a 24 hr wedding with TV's respectable gay silver fox in a promotional almost political move than it is to wed for love, completely – okay mostly – sober, for reasons other than financial, legal in 13 states as Man and Husband. 

"Stefon," Pierre, the Muslim Elvis impersonator calls in his classic 60's twang, "We must speak of your nuptials."

x

 

Seth had also been gearing himself up during the weekend, not having replied to anyone's emails or texts cause while the cast and crew had been supportive and lovely when they announced it live, and how the prop room just casually had a sack of rice laying around for them to throw while he had asked Lorne for his blessing — to make the grand gesture on TV — not ask for Stefon's hand in marriage from his proxy dad, which is an outdated, sexist, and why does Stefon have a better relationship with Lorne than his employee of a decade tradition.

A weekend is long enough to mull over his new engagement and all wedding plans, ( _no it's not_ ), but it's not like he has to go to work tomorrow cause that was the last working day of the season ( _thank god_ ), so with his newfound courage ( _day drinking_ ) and a clear head ( _lots of day drinking Hi, mom, dad, Poshy. I know if you've seen the segment on Saturday you probably have a few questions and I want to address them head on. Yes, I am marrying Stefon. No, that wasn't a bit or a sketch. I know this might come as a shock to you and that you guys probably expected me to come home with a nice Jewish girl on my arm, but yeah. This is who I am, this is a part of me that's always been there but I never really acknowledged it to you guys. All of this may be a bombshell and you can say this is a rash decision, which is fair but it's like what you always said, ma. When you know, you know. And with Stefon, I do. You guys have met him already as a friend of mine and I know he's not at all what you expect anyone to be, but when you really get to know him I think you'll really like him. I know you guys love me no matter what, so I know and hope you guys will love us as family too."_

"Soufie!" Josh appears on the screen, and a second later on another screen, Larry and Hillary.

"Hi m—" Seth starts his monologue like a segment for update and is immediately interrupted.

"Sethy! Oh baby, congratulations. We can't believe it!" His mom gushes.

"Took ya long enough." His dad added.

"Live TV, real classy move bro." Josh laughed.

Seth's head kind of hurt from all this spiraling because _what,_ and why doesn't his family sound more shocked at their son coming out.

"I—you guys _knew?!"_ Seth gasps, having the bombshell dropped on him instead.

"Well, we didn't know you were going to mention it on television but of course we did, is it true he was really with Anderson Cooper?! Wow. Of course you two have been together for so long now, but you never said anything, we thought you were shy. But oh, it was something out of a movie, you two running out together. Your father and I loved it, so sweet."

Seth wonders if he contracted alcohol poisoning from rosè and is now vividly hallucinating. "You—i, you guys knew I was bisexual?" 

"Bro." Josh says, rolling his eyes.

"Yes, well, those Star Wars and baseball cards gave it away," his dad chuckles and his mom continues, "And when you brought Stefon along for all the holidays all these years, we got the hint. He's so eccentric, in a lovely way. We do wish you'd told us earlier but then Josh talked to us, that you wouldn't do something like that unless you were a 100% sure. You'll both have to tell us everything when you come over for Pop's birthday!" 

Seth literally collapses to the couch and it's absolutely nerve wracking to deal with. His heart is pounding and yet he feels a huge load off his chest and it's unbelievable, not only did his parents know about his sexuality but also about Stefon? It's like what Poehler said when she pulled him aside at the bar, "everyone saw this coming for years, except you" and that's so stunning. Frisbee, sensing Seth's emotional upheaval comes to paw at him, and Seth realizes, yeah he's brought Stefon along to every Thanksgiving, Christmas and birthday. Well, the first few times were because of jokey promises made on TV he didn't wanna break, and later it turned into tradition because Stefon somehow ultimately charmed his family and they made a whole roadtrip out of it, which was fun — and sharing his childhood bedroom, okay yeah he sees it now. _Saw this coming for years,_ indeed.

And if hearing his family tell him they love him and support him unconditionally makes Seth cries a few times during that conversation, well, he did. 

 

x

 

Seth's left all the eloping plans to Stefon, who after the previous attempt has sworn off of big elaborate wedding plans and just run away, and he's the only person Seth can trust to disappear in plain sight in New York City. He's been busy planning out a seamless transition from SNL to Late Night, and picking out his team while clearing out his own duties to even think of a winter wonderland themed wedding, which is not related to Disney's Frozen copyright trademarked.

So when he gets texted directions that makes him take two trains and a detour to end up near City Hall Park, Seth is equal parts building up with anticipation and kind of confused. 

"Hey, buddy," Seth starts softly as he reaches the top of the stairs where Stefon is standing, his hair untouched by the wind, "If I knew it's today, I would've dressed better." Seth admits, wishing he had a jacket to have a semi formal prom look at least.

Stefon frowns at him confused then his eyes widen comically, "What? Oh no, we're not getting married _today._ You have to wait in line for 3 hours to get a license, New York is _awful._ But, but, but, but," Stefon hesitates and puts his hands in front of his face, like a teepee hiding his secrets and Seth nods at him to continue.

"Stefon still had a productive day. Booked a normal bar for your normal friends to give us spoons in gift wrap, it's so great you guys are all unemployed in the summer! Makes it so much easier to make plans," Stefon lists off and Seth wonders if he should argue that just cause SNL is off for the summer doesn't mean they're... nevermind.

"Yes, and then a quick detour to SPICŸ, KEVIN and JUICE, you know, the juice bar — oh, and I bumped into my lawyer, Shy on 4th Street who said "prenup!" and walked away, so we should set some ground rules like I won't write about your penis in my Tell-All book like OJ titled "If I Hit It" and you won't do that standup comedy thing where everyone's super weird about their ex like _'what's the deal with my ex-husband?!'"_

It will truly break Seth's improv and sketch writer heart if Stefon thinks standup comedy has remained the same since the 90's... Which to be fair...  
nevermind.

"And finally... Stefon had a talk with Pierre —"

"The Muslim Elvis impersonator whose wife is a Priscilla Chan impersonator?" Seth politely inquires.

"Yes, yes, yes. And he told me how wise men say only idiots rush in, so someone hasn't been to the ball drop on New Years' but he also said that marriage is about compromise... So, Seth Meyers... I went to La Guardia." Stefon gingerly holds Seth's shoulders and looks him straight in the eyes, and Seth's still confused because is any compromise truly worth going to _La Guardia?!_ when Stefon holds his shoulders and turns him around towards the stairs.

At the foot of the stairs are Hilary, Larry and Josh in all reality of New York City Hall, with balloons that say 'Happy Birthday!', 'Go Jets!', and 'Just Married!' all waving up at Seth and Stefon, megawatt Meyers family smiles.

"Stefon, how—?" Seth chokes up, almost embarrassing how fast he teared up, Stefon's hand in his as they rush down the stairs like fools, very similar to that other time they got fake married.

"Just cause party monsters are sad orphans from Annie doesn't mean well-adjusted New Hampshire boys shouldn't have the traditional weddings they dream of." Stefon explains, shrugging. It's only a 1 hour flight, and Hilary's always texting how Stefon needs to show her around New York's hottest clubs, and boy can she hold her drink, it's like hitting two human rolling pins with one human bowling ball, that's the thing where —

Seth Meyers is in all kinds of awe as his family engulfs him in a hug, talking excitedly about where Stefon had taken them, and Seth's kind of stupidly happy how his to-be husband can't wait in line for 3 hours but can do almost everything else in a day because that's so quintessentially Stefon, no wonder New York had to open a new club everyday to keep up with him.

Seth signals Stefon to join in on the hug, mouthing _"I love you"_ , and Stefon who was clapping standing from the side of their family balloon hug steps in, raising a delicate finger to wipe away an imaginary tear from the corner of his eye, and finds a real one instead.

x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: steponmemeyers, if you’d like to yell about some stefon or let me know if this made you laugh or aww or you wanna discuss obscure SNL details (2003 has the best opening credits hands down)


	3. thought you were built by gay scientists

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these tweets are real!??? that brings me so much joy

Seth gets Stefon a phone, citing how it's ridiculous, it's 2011, and it's impossible to find him when his landlady doesn't pick up the landline or he's not in his usual clubs, and eventually wins him over by teaching him the many, many uses of the photo image instant messaging functions.

 

He lives to regret it when New York gets its head out of its ass and finally legalises gay marriage statewide — and Stefon comes to the amazing conclusion that you can plan pride themed orgies on your phone now!

 

> In the last 10 minutes I've had 100 missed calls from Stefon.
> 
> — Seth Meyers (@sethmeyers) [June 25, 2011](https://twitter.com/sethmeyers/status/84453381464276992?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw)

x

 

Seth stays over, especially after Tuesdays pulling near all nighters to finish the writing, because surprisingly enough Stefon's little fourth floor climb up apartment on 27th Street and 7th Avenue is a short commute away from 30 Rock. It's tiny and the doorman is a very fat rat, but rent controlled and allows dogs, so Stefon's not moving out anytime soon.

 

The first time Seth came over, he was all kinds of awed and failed in not showing it, trying to mask it with a _"Oh, I didn't expect this,"_ noticing the little potted plants on the windowsill and a functioning kitchen and the sparsely decorated but brightly coloured walls.

"Not enough glitter coke den for Seth Meyers?" Stefon had asked, flicking his tongue out, and enjoying the prim proper, slightly uncomfortable Seth Meyers in his prim proper, slightly unnerving apartment.

"No!—" Seth was cut off by Stefon's big rescue mutt with lots of personality, Bark Ruffalo barking at him but didn't move to bite, like he did with most strangers, and that's when Stefon knew he could keep Seth Meyers.

 

After that, over the years of them knowing each other, Stefon had a habit of leaving little notes in Seth's jacket pocket or stealing $5. The notes were usually raunchy, just outright would make any sexually empowered female protagonist at end of a middle aged women's erotica novel blush, and sometimes just random astute observations in his spidery penmanship like _'that subway guy looked like Larry King if he was unemployed and selling Herbalife. So Larry King.'_

Then one day, Seth found a key and a note attached to it (Stefon had grudgingly accepted emails but still was on the fence on texting) _'Take your naps. Feed Bark. XO. That's a butt and X Mark's the spot. The spot where you —'_ you get the gist. It was surprisingly sweet, as Stefon had a two nighter gig at a floating club's new opening and it was the middle of the week.

So there have been times when Seth chills on Stefon's couch with Bark, and listens to 80's Rock on Stefon's 4 radios tuned to the same station, a brilliant idea he had while high and buying 4 radios from the RadioShack opposite his building, while Stefon is in god knows where New York City doing god may not want to know what. It's almost oddly domestic, Seth realizes, loading up the groceries in the fridge besides Stefon's impressive wine collection to leave some bean and cheese rice leftovers for him when he gets back.

 

But right now, they're both at Stefon's apartment, getting dressed at 5AM. Seth dropped by around midnight on a Monday, cause it's election cycle and SNL really grinds their writing staff overtime coming up with Mitt Romney Mormon jokes.

"Honey, where are my damn socks?!" Seth tries in his TV sitcom dad voice, in his underwear, shirt, and loosened tie and Stefon has half a mind to jump on him again on the couch, but instead goes back to blow drying his bangs.

"You know, your landlady still asks me what my business here is? Like, you'd think after all this time she'd get the hint." Seth monologues, buckling his pants.

He's going to an all week long comedy club that some of his friends are performing at, and Stefon just came back from an all weak, long club where some of his friends were performing. And for both cases, 5AM is when shit gets real weird.

"Be careful there, Sethy. People just might think you've got yourself a boytoy," Stefon sing songs, fresh out of the shower in his Hangover || bathrobe, and to further illustrate his point he sticks his tongue down his alleged accused boytoymaster's throat and an enthusiastic ass squeeze.

Seth smiles in his stupid 'I-got-laid-today' face, shirt untucked. "And she thinks you're my coke dealer, good ol' Hollywood network blow for some blow." Stefon winks, tongue in cheek to illustrate the innuendo.

Seth waves away all implications of him being a cocaine dealer in exchange for sexual favours and instead laughs disbelievingly, "There's no old network money and coke anymore! NBC's just underpaid writers with underlying caffeine issues now. Gah!"

"Sure there is," Stefon shrugs, suddenly tired and his bones are aching and this weekend's partying really catching up to him, or its just the Ambien doing its thing. All he wants to do is sleep till the next Ice Age, movie not global warming effect. "Just ask Lorne."

Seth's eyes widens and his jaw drops a little as he grabs his jacket and Stefon walks him out the spacious three steps to his doorway. "No... You do _not_ do coke with Lorne Micheals. Stefon? _Stefon?!"_

And Stefon kicks Seth Meyers out, and goes to promptly pass out.

 

x

 

 

> For those wondering if I'm spending NYE with Stefon he told me, "you can't handle my New Year's." I believed him.
> 
> — Seth Meyers (@sethmeyers) [January 1, 2011](https://twitter.com/sethmeyers/status/21010416486322176?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw)

 

x

 

New Years' Eve, Seth goes back home spends with his family and Stefon gets back to New York always making sure never to overstay his welcome with the Meyers. New Years plans are stressful because there's always too many new clubs opening with horrible pun names and people who can't bar hop try to bar hop and instead throw up in the subway. Stefon has too many places to be, so he stays home, tells his friends he's at a different party, and turns all his radios on to distract Bark Ruffalo from all the fireworks.

His New Years' kiss is actually two days late, with a hint of stubble and chub from the holidays, talking about the New York primaries like a _real_ newsman, and he tastes like Christmas cookies and home.

 

 

x

 

 

Seth has a thing about spending Christmas with his family, so now Stefon's spending Christmas with the Meyers' yet again — on the condition that Seth spends his birthday with _Stefon's family,_ which is a fair trade off.

 

x

 

 

> Great birthday last night. Hit Push, Trash and Gush with Stefon and Black George Washington.
> 
> — Seth Meyers (@sethmeyers) [December 29, 2010](https://twitter.com/sethmeyers/status/20169520765210624?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw)

 

x

 

 

 _You know too much. Seth Meyers must die._ Stefon thinks, staring lovingly at Seth who has two glasses of whiskey and is animatedly talking to two grown men dressed as leprechauns and two leprechauns dressed as pots of gold. Gone are the days he would be surprised but pretend to not be at the least outrageous of situations. It's amazing how unprejudiced people are after a bottle of rosè. Everyday should be St. Paddy's Day.

 

 

x

 

 

"This doesn't mean anything," is the first thing Seth Meyers says when Stefon opens the door, which is reassuring to say the least. He looks like shit. Dark circles, unkempt hair, and looking like he hasn't slept in a week and has been wearing the same clothes since.

"You look like shit." Stefon tells him.

Seth shushes him, pushing him backwards and both of them collapsing on Stefon's couch.

"We're having violent, passionate, concupiscent sex." Seth mumbles, half asleep, wrapping an arm around Stefon.

"Are we also giving the SATs? Cause this is not getting my cock hard." Stefon quizzes, laughing.

"Shush. You're ruining the mood." Seth passes out completely, and wakes up a few hours later to a stack of pancakes, a note to feed the dog, and an unused condom.

Seth feels so guilty, he goes to the nearest bodega and stacks Stefon's entire fridge with groceries; and Stefon forever makes fun of him for it.

 

 

x

 

 

"Does it make sense to be upset about someone else's divorce?" Seth asks quietly as Stefon approaches the garden that overlooks a formidable New York skyline. This place is employee only, when Seth was in his first season before being confirmed as a repertory cast member, he'd be wary of using the employee bathrooms even. How Stefon walks around 30 Rockefeller and comes and goes as he pleases, like a bodega cat.

"If I knew you were sad I wouldn't have bribed the interns with the last of my weed." Stefon confesses, holding some intern's badge. Seth looks tired and uncharacteristically solemn, and is also sitting on the pavement just two feet away from soft grass.

Stefon plops on the grass beside him, "And yes. Divorces suck," Stefon admits.  
"You have to schedule new friend groups and plans, and it's like no, you can't invite her ex wife to the threesome!"

Seth musters half a smile and then tells him there's beer in the garden cooler, which Stefon rolls over to get.

"Bud Light, really?"

"We made fun of them in a sketch once and they sent us free crates ever since." Seth shrugs.

Stefon brings over a 6 pack, as is his duty as a good friend and cracks one open and drinks, without offering one to Seth, and makes a show of gagging afterwards.

"You've put worse things in your mouth willingly." Seth, the cutthroat bitch, shows no sympathy.

They both sit in relative silence, watching the sun set, until Seth starts talking, about how his friend is getting divorced and how he wants to be there for her and that she's stronger than anything on this measly planet, how there's no way you can really comfort them without the silently implied "hey! look at the one good thing in your life you managed to colossally fuck up! enjoy being alone forever!" and how love is lost.

Stefon listens, doesn't interject when he feels Seth is projecting, and when he's done venting, offers him a shitty beer.

"Don't drink to replace pain. I've had too many friends do it and it doesn't work. Drink cause you wanna drink a shitty fuckin' beer."

"Thank you for being here, Stefon."

 

Stefon always thought Poelher and Seth had a thing at some point. They have too much chemistry to not have. And it's not even from a place of jealousy, but a place of 'oh yeah, I can see that happening.' However, Stefon makes it a point to properly meet Amy Poehler and takes her out for a spin to Push. She's surprisingly fun, and also the easiest drunk on the planet. Five foot tall, but can pack a punch. Stefon knows she's gonna be just fine.

 

x

  

Seth's half convinced his writers don't actually work on Stefon's scripts and instead are letting him get away with improv. Stefon walks around the set wearing a very obvious "Kiss Me, I'm Irish" pin and an incredibly self satisfied smirk on his face to the point where Seth doesn't even need to read the last minute revisions to know what was added.

Stefon kisses Seth Meyers on live national television, the audience loves it, and Seth closes his eyes because it's good manners. No one bats an eye. Doesn't explain why his heart's racing.

 

x

 

Mother's Day rolls around the corner, and Seth actually liked what Stefon suggested in his bit: flying a kite in Central Park. It's a thing that sounds so normal, and yet no one in New York unless they're in a Lifetime movie actually does it. So in the back of Seth's mind, he keeps 'get a kite' and flies his mother to the city to spend the day with her.

He gets off work around noon, and has to pick his mom up from the airport shortly after and then grab lunch with her and then go to the park, and just assumed there would be a kite in the SNL props and art department. There's an actual grand piano there, of course there will be a kite.

"Why would we have a kite? The ceilings are like 20 feet." The art department guy explains to Seth exasperatedly, who did not think of that at all and fuck, he's running late.

So he emails the one person he knows can deliver on a request without question on a Sunday afternoon, and sure enough, standing awkwardly clutching a bright red kite in all his gloriousness, Stefon delivered.

"Stefon, this is my mom, Hilary. Mom, you k—"

"Of course I know him!" Hilary gushes about how she and her husband love Stefon's sketches and then brings him into a hug, where Stefon looks mildly uncomfortable and tries to signal SOS with his eyes. This is one fan encounter Seth can't help him with.

Stefon tries to slink away, but after hearing Stefon's mom is out of town and he doesn't have Mother's Day plans, Hilary insists he stay for a little bit and help her set up, since god knows all her sons ever did was stay in their rooms and collect baseball cards, and leverages some embarrassing childhood stories.

Seeing Stefon and his mom fly a kite on this clear blue day, but really mostly try to sabotage and cut away the nearby kite fliers' ones, hearing them laugh and trade stories of which Stefon has a surprising number of safe for work ones, it makes Seth feel something foreign yet familiar in his chest. Must be the subway churros.

 

x

 

"Your writers say you can be an asshole sometimes." Stefon tells Seth, running a finger over the constellation of bite marks he left from his neck to shoulder.

"If they were good at their jobs, they'd have my job." Seth says, like an asshole. And Stefon digs a fingernail into a fresh, red bite mark making him hiss.

Moments like these are rare, and far in between, when they have time. It could be four AM or four PM, they could be in anywhere in the world right now, they could be any two people right now.

"Tell me, Seth Meyers, you're pretty, rich, don't have issues with a father figure and you work in comedy. _What the fuck is wrong with you?_

Seth laughs, and Stefon places a hand on his sternum, feeling the muscles move and accommodate, clench and relax.  

"I base my self worth on my work, and I work myself to death." Seth replies honestly, watching Stefon. Their legs are tangled under the blankets, interlocked. But mentioning work breaks the spell of the timelessness and the countdown of when they have to leave starts.

 _"Arbeit macht frei,_ my ass." Stefon counts Seth's heart beats. Duh-dum.

The 'I have to go' lingers in the air unspoken, but Seth gets up and starts getting dressed, taking a peek at the marks on his neck and making sure to button to his collar this time. He doesn't condescend Stefon by telling him he can help himself to the fridge if he wants. They've been here too many times.

"I'm not gonna fix you, Seth Meyers." Stefon says straight, never one to be afraid of confrontation.

They'll never mention it again. The seemingly double lives they sometimes lead, they fall in and out of lines of who Seth Meyers and Stefon Zolesky are. Fuck sleeping with publicly performative straight boys. Stefon truly is his worst enemy.

"I know, Stefon. You wouldn't be you otherwise."

 

x

 

Being two individuals in their early thirties means having adult life experiences, and dealing with them by bitching about it like middle schoolers.

_"And it's like, I can't be the only one going 'Oh, hey Tina, yeah tone it down with the Sarah Palin impressions even though they do great with ratings, it's just it might a little overplayed.'"_

  _"You've already made the blood pact! You can't back out of the coffin now! Just let her suck you off a gallon!"_

 _"He's all, 'Oh, my son, he's 27 months!' I don't care about your damn child, stop making me do math!"_  

_"With comedians, it's like that thing where are they doing a bit or are they just mad at you? And the answer is, you'll never know._

"Can you... This isn't... relate to anything I've said — wait, did you mention a _blood pact?_ "

 "Yes, yes, yes, we both can't relate to each other. Like, am I supposed to be happy or mad that Mark got the new Keurig water filter? I can't tell expressions when your face gets all worked up in the unsexy way, like Rudy Guiliani."

"Mad, Stefon! Cause now, John can't drink from it cause of gluten allergies and that's gonna be a whole thing."

 

"..."

 

"So, do you wanna go make out somewhere?"

 

"God, yes."

  

x

 

Navigating a new friendship is always fun, and also comes with its share of awkward moments as one learns about their boundaries, likes and dislikes.

 

On a Thursday, during rehearsals, Stefon shows up a large plate of ham, and a thin knife. How he managed to get food across the 'no food/drink unless it's NBC sponsored' doors or onto the set, nobody knows. He quietly goes about his own merry way, offering everyone from the production crew, to the sound guys, to Sudeikis and Wiig in their Two A-Holes sketch a slice.

"It's a little dry." Fred Armisen remarked, but thanked him all the same.

Seth doesn't even notice until he's at the update desk, trying out some of the jokes of this week when Stefon remarks that Seth doesn't have to wear pants to sit behind a desk, and then sits on said desk, with a plate of ham on his lap.

He's a little surprised but chalks it off to the writers' calling Stefon in for a last minute bit if some of the other sketches get cut. Stefon's legs dangle off the Update Desk as he glares at the makeup lady who's dabbing foundation on Seth's cheeks, before sweetly offering her some ham.

Seth's about to tell Stefon that his gesture to reach out to the SNL cast and crew is sweet, when Stefon casually says, "My landlady must like me now that I pay rent on time," while inspecting the half eaten ham under the bright lights. "Not even poisoned."

"Well, that's one way to get hammered," Seth tries at a pun, and then realizes what he just said. "Wait, did you feed us ham you thought was poisoned?"

 

"There's so many of you. And only one of Stefon." Stefon says vaguely, before taking a bite and hopping off the desk.

 

_"Stefon!"_

 

In all fairness, the cast and crew agreed it was really good ham and warmed up to Stefon and his strange antics considerably. On the other hand, Seth Meyers had to live with the information he was the only person not offered the ham, and what he could make of that.

 

  

After several counts of trying to explain why Stefon shouldn't use Seth's coworkers as taste testers, he realizes it's time for desperate measures. So that week, when Stefon drags Seth to a hot new bar — the air conditioning was broken, it's the middle of summer, they're only serving whiskey, there's no roof — he gets on a chair helped by Stefon's friend of short stature, and announces the next round is on him.

His own triumph lasts for as long as Stefon looks a mixture of genuinely surprised and horrified as the whole bar cheers until Stefon pulls him down and lets him know in a slow drawl, "You do realize you just told every recovering and closeted alcoholic here you're paying for their unlimited tab?", at which Seth goes pale and desperately hopes he has his company card.

Unbeknownst to Seth, Stefon has to spend the rest of night thwarting the vultures who are interested in this rich, beautiful idiot Stefon brought and later they reach a truce of not trying to inadvertently advocate for the murder of the others' coworkers/patrons.

 

Another quick wrinkle in their friendship that had to be eliminated was discovered when David came to 30 Rock to pitch a new TV show to NBC and dropped by to see Stefon, and struck up a conversation with Seth who had noticed David was wearing a Patriots hat.

"How come David's from Boston and you're from New York when you're brothers?" Seth offhandedly mentioned and Stefon stared at him like he just announced he's running for Mayor of New York, Bloomberg style. So nothing short of abject horror and disgust.

"That was really offensive, Seth." says the man whose scripts have to be heavily revised to bypass NBC censors, and walks away.

   

Seth doesn't understand what Stefon means until a few weeks later, Stefon meets Seth's brother and all goes to hell.

"You look like Seth, if Seth had enough testosterone to grow facial hair." is the first thing Stefon says to Josh, very mad that Seth Meyers never disclosed the fact there's _two of him!_

Seth has to unsuccessfully drag him away, also kind of hurt because all his college girlfriends hated it every time he tried to grow out his mustache, admittedly a little lackluster.

 

They agree to add brothers to the list of topics to not fuck with, and all the secrets that come with it. Stefon keeps his fantasies about which Greek Gods sculpted the Meyers' brothers in their image, and Seth never mentions how Stefon sometimes drops the R when speaking. It sucks cause Seth can do a wicked Boston accent and knows Stefon would castrate him if he ever tried it in bed.

 

Unconventional or not, their friendship works because they're so dissimilar. Stefon doesn't have the attention span for 40 minute episodes of Mad Men, Seth's not even sure if he owns a TV cause he makes it a point to not watch SNL, which is why Stefon always thinks it's cops whenever someone recognizes him on the streets and makes a run for it. And Seth is too engrossed in his work to catch up on the latest TV in time, so he's always a season behind and with Stefon, he doesn't have to care who's alive on the Walking Dead — Stefon says, all of them.

Also, Seth's work hours are so fucked that he either doesn't wanna hang out with the people he works the better part of the whole week with after work hours, or his non work friends are busy during 3AM on Tuesdays. Stefon can be found in these hours, and can drag Seth to an interactive museum or funeral or DJ party or all three somehow.

Stefon, surprisingly enough although as Seth gets to know him more it surprises him less, relates to Seth's workaholic tendencies. Something about living in New York City and having musicals about how hard it is to pay rent.

 

There's a third unspoken part of their friendship that drags it into a grey area just short of romance. In the summer of 2011, there will be two blockbuster summer movies with two similarly attractive heterosexual leads about how friends with benefits doesn't work out, an epidemic so widespread Hollywood decided it needed _two_ separate movies about being the same movie. But until then, the 2010's era remain untouched, friends with benefits culture remains unchecked, Seth and Stefon never acknowledging quick hookups in bathrooms and apartments beyond a satisfied smirk and the plop of a used condom discarded in the trashcan, a hand on a hip, a hickey under a fashion forward scarf, leopard prints are still in, and they are young.

 

_It's like, two workaholics of entirely different industries with the same base product found common ground, _Seth muses after half a bottle of gin because Stefon's getting to know Seth becomes faux philosophical with gin.__

 

"You sound like, when a TV journalist has a midlife crisis and writes a fiction romance that's secretly about his co-host." Stefon giggles, gin making him giddy counting all the stars in Seth Meyers' eyes.

 

x

  

What do you do after hooking up with an attractive, if unconventional, colleague? If you're Seth Meyers, you chalk it off to a good weekend and wonder how that much glitter made its way into your jeans' back pockets before heading off to work. Working at SNL, everyone has some memorable and well kept secret notch in their bed posts, as long as they can keep it professional.

So the next Monday, around noon, when Seth is engrossed on a Britney Shaves Her Head as a metaphor for the Wall Street banks failing sketch angle, he's surprised when one of the interns tell him there's a Stefon asking to see him, mostly because it's such acceptable visiting hours.

Stefon is doing that thing where he's trying to make himself take up the least space possible, and is staring around the office with darting doe eyes like he's never been there, which wouldn't surprise Seth since he's tried to introduce himself on three separate occasions. Stefon also looks a little rough, which is to say the usual, dressed in a different Ed Hardy print shirt, but the usual boots and skinny jeans and eyeliner.

"Hey, buddy." Seth greets him awkwardly, not really prepared for a post hookup confrontation but also simultaneously crafting a speech in his head.

"Hi," Stefon says, frowning at him, "Are you, like, pretending to be a homeless person?"

Seth looks down at his ' _I was in an Adam Sandler movie and all I got was a lousy movie_ ' shirt, shorts, and flip flops and realizes Stefon's never seen him without the Update suit and makeup. It's like seeing Clark Kent as a newspaper editor, except somehow lamer. 

"Uh... No. Laundry day. What's up?" There should be a law against feeling naked in front of someone you've already been naked with. 

Stefon's glaring at Seth's sandals like they've personally offended him and then snaps out of it. "In my head, this conversation took place in a diner."

As a sketch writer, Seth completely understands the importance of a setting. Also, given how unpredictable Stefon can be, if a scene were to be caused he'd much prefer it happen in a diner than his place of work. "Okay, I know a place two blocks down. Great eggs."

 

"You can just leave in the middle of work?"

 

Seth shrugs. Who's gonna stop him?

 

"Cool. Me too."

  

After 5 minutes of walking downstairs and then two blocks across to a nearby diner, they both finally sit across each other, linoleum mint green floors and the smell of pancakes wafting through the air.

A waitress pours two cups of black coffee and they both thank her at the same time. 

"I was on the F Train," Stefon starts, unprompted, "And the therapist said — "  
"You have a therapist?" Seth interrupts.

"No! This lady, she had her therapist on her phone on loudspeaker. And I was like, yay! Free therapy! So she said something about interpersonal relationships and trust and ex husband, I didn't really follow. But then she said, if you wait around your whole life for things to just happen to you, it'll never be the things that you want," Stefon goes off on his tangent. Seth doesn't follow, but is thoroughly amused either ways.

"And call me a materialistic bitch, but I don't wait around for what I want." Stefon looks directly at Seth, who clears his throat nervously, ready to launch his half baked speech about how they had a great night but he's not ready for a relationship and how work is the top priority but he hopes they can still be—

 

"Seth Meyers, do you wanna be friends?"

 

"I —" Seth blinks for a second. There's something adorable about being entirely straight faced serious and asking someone if they want to be friends, like you're in grade school. Seth actually can't remember the last time he heard that phrase genuinely asked.

 

"Yes, of course, Stefon." He says softly. _I have had your tongue in my mouth and you want to be friends,_ Seth thinks distractedly. 

"Well. Friend," Seth starts, "It's no New York's hottest club, but you're invited to the SNL afte—"

"Ugh, the after party? It's not mandatory, right? Bo–ring." Stefon rolls his eyes.

 Seth's pretty sure several people dated him solely to get into that after party, where New York's richest, famous, and politically savvy often make an appearance and some of it is actually infamous. Yeah. Super boring.

"Do you have any place else to be that day?" Seth's sure an SNL afterparty can hold its own to whatever crazy new club Stefon could be going to.

"Hm? No, I think I'll clean my apartment. Clip Bark Ruffalo's nails." Stefon plays with his rings.

For the first time in a long time, Seth wishes his inherent self worth wasn't tied to his job because he somehow got demoted below clipping a dog's nails.

 

"Anyways, good talk! I want a bagel!" And with that Stefon saunters out of the cafe, leaving Seth in his Adam Sandler shirt and flip flops, "Don't forget to tip 20%!"

 

x

   

Seth has absolutely garbage work life maintenance and his idea of a good night's sleep is two 3 hour naps in the writers' office so when the entourage of some pop group music guest suggests they all hit a club on Friday, he backs out. And is immediately bullied and peer pressured by the younger cast members and also kicked out by Chris Kelly from his napping couch, and "C'mon, it's like _super_ exclusive, like underground exclusive, and there's a VIP room that's for NFL players!" A high pitched member of the entourage gushes, pulling at his two scarves. 

And then Seth and everyone else who wanted to get smashed at Long Island were now at this club, called Kevin? Or something, and the bouncer is Greek who asks for the password and Seth's just about to tell Samberg how that guy looks like Marv Albert when someone says the password is _yes_ , and something about this seems a touch familiar.

The interior is like a lowly lit footwear store that was trashed, with the glass displays and the box shaped built in wall boards that now hold alcohol, but the music is some dancey EDM beats and within minutes the group disperses. Servers carry mysterious purple drinks in white cups, and everything sounds like a suspiciously normal drink with a shot of something completely foreign.

 Seth's about to risk ordering a whiskey on the rocks when one of the girls from the entourage takes him by the arm to the other end of the room, where a large bouncer is standing in front the presumably VIP NFL room, where Samberg seems to be trying his charms at getting in.

 "Seth! My man!" Andy slings an arm around him and brings him face to chest with the very unimpressed doorman. Seth really, really hopes Andy wasn't trying to namedrop SNL, or him, cause the only way an underground night club in Long Island would care about that if it was a comedy club of hopeful SNL auditonees.

 

"Tell this gentleman about our _good friend,_ Stefon!" Andy continues in his loud, boisterous voice over the music.

 

"Wh—" Seth is sharply jabbed at his kidneys before he can ask since when his Facebook friend list got updated.

 

"You know Stefon?" The bouncer asses them, somehow menacingly.

 

"Oh my god, what's taking so long?" One of the entourage who had all of them gathered up behind complains.

 

Samberg shoots an urgent nod, urging Seth to go along and continuing, "Pfft _know_ Stefon?! Uhh, Eyeliner, tight jeans, a little coked up, knows all of New York's hottest spots that we club in, that party freak, yeah! We're tight. And he's gonna be supes mad you're not letting us in."

 

 _This is never gonna work._ Seth cringes internally. "We, uh, work with him." He adds, adding a modicum of truth.

 

The bouncer shrugs, and then opens the velvet roped door. Inside is a fancier shoe store turned club, purple mood lighting reflecting off the sponsored Nike and Reeboks white walls, a hidden smoke machine making it look like no one has knees and a laser DJ in the corner. Every booth has someone from the Jets or Mets and a group of people surrounding them, with the aforementioned purple drinks.

"I can't believe that worked!" Samberg voices what Seth's thinking and reaches out for a high five but Seth goes dizzy for a second when he notices one of the backup quarterbacks on another table letting a white girl touch his skinny dreadlocks and realization hits, this isn't just a cool underground club that Stefon knows, this is one he mentioned on the show. _They're real._ All those clubs with the crazy descriptors that Seth thought _had_ to be the writer's work, they're all exactly as Stefon said.

He's about to say so to Samberg, who had already left, so instead Seth slumps on a leather sofa; his heart racing as he tries to recall every out of this world club Stefon has ever told them of, and the fact that they exist. He's tempted to call one of the writers at 1AM and and interrogate them whether they knew of this and if they did, _why did no one tell him?!_  

Seth's too busy freaking out like a sixteen year old at his first club to really notice, but a certain someone in eyeliner, tight jeans, and a little coked up smoothly climbed in from a seemingly locked window and happily made his way to a couch where an aforementioned cute fake weatherman is having an existential crisis.

 

"Hi, _friend,_ Stefon emphasizes the word, whispers it to the back of the brunette's head, who, Stefon is delighted to notice, jolts in surprise instantly.

 

Seth turns to see Stefon behind him, and for half a second is convinced he materialized out of thin air because Seth thought about him too hard.

"Wh—you—hey. That was Andy Samberg." is somehow the first thing his brain justifies.

Stefon ignores him to hop behind the counter of the bar, reach down, and then emerge out with a full bottle of vodka. Seth cocks an eyebrow at that, and Stefon shrugs, "It's fine, they know me," opens the bottle, and takes a swig, raw. It's kind of impressive.

 Seth's staring at him drink it unflinchingly, his Adam's apple bobbing before he realizes he's been caught staring.

"Now... Imagine my surprise when I got a call saying my 'friends' are here, when my friends are in New York's hottest club, Push, with me," Stefon accuses, his voice smoother and slightly less high than it is on the show, sparing a glance behind them where Samberg is doing an impression, or that's his regular face. Seth wants to kind of melt in his seat in embarrassment. Stefon has no such qualms, he sprawls across the sofa across Seth, one of his legs hanging off the sofa and the other on the marble table between them. "But no worries, the more the merrier." Stefon finishes with a smile, and offers Seth the bottle.

Seth takes a swig and gags a little, cause, oh yeah that burns, even the sharp smell burns, and notices Stefon watching him like a hawk. There's a really stark difference between Stefon at work, and Stefon here, where he's completely at ease. His hair's not in its perfect shape from the night of club hopping, which answers a question Seth didn't know he had, and a strand is right over his eye. His eyeliner is smudged too, and his shirt has ridden up to show the pale white flash of skin, that Seth is definitely not looking at. Seth doesn't really know quite where to look, with the way Stefon's staring at him.

 "This place, it's — exactly like you said." Seth phrases carefully, not wanting to let on he previously thought he was full of shit. He has so many questions, so many legal implications, did everyone already know? _How did he not?_

 "So like, what exactly do you do?" Seth asks, genuinely curious.

"Everything," Stefon gestures around with his bottle. "Market, bartend, barricade, take an unsuspecting newcomer and deflower their clubbing experience. Some, more fun than others." He winks.

"Every year, some rich middle eastern man with too much money to spend comes to New York City to have a midlife crisis. It's my job to convince him his lifelong dream was always to open New York's hottest club."

Stefon leans forward, and gestures Seth to lean as well, then gently takes his head and tilts it slightly at a table full of footballers and fawning groupies. "You see that? Famous people always say they want a VIP table," He rolls his eyes, "But what they really want is a balance of people crawling all over them, and people who are fuckable. My job is to provide the centre of that Venn diagram."

Seth nods. "Okay and what about, uh, little people? Is that a part of the subculture?" Surely if every club Stefon's mentioned is real, then there's quite a few pertaining to such specifics. 

Stefon laughs out loud to that. "No! Well, yes, yes, yes. They're my friends. I'm on TV so I might as well get them gigs. The best way to live is to have someone owe you a favor." Seth has definitely pulled a favor or two at his job to get his friends gigs, so he can relate.

 

"Okay, final question. Why not drink the purple stuff?"

 

"Oh, that's codeine. Morphine cough syrup. Nasty stuff. I'm sure it'll catch on soon enough." Stefon says with casual disdain. Seth is completely mesmerized at how easily they all fit in this niche, to the point where he feels like he's standing out like a sore thumb. And as the whitest of white guys of fitting in, it's a strange feeling.

Seth actually has another question, about the legal implications and whether it counts as an endorsement but those thoughts are muddled as Stefon mentions, "Shame your girlfriend isn't here."

"What? I don't have — I'm not dating anyone," Seth explains confused, before remembering the only proper interaction they have at the show is rehearsing their scripts, which usually involve an imaginary girlfriend as a segue to ask questions about New York's tourist locations. "I don't really know why they gave me one... Since I always end up picking you anyway." Seth misses Stefon's smirk at his words.

"Well, I'm bored. Let's dance, away from these stars," Stefon says, with such derision and grabs Seth's hand and takes him back to the club.

 

It's well into the night, yet the club still has people with no concept of time dancing to the beats and laser lighting casting an alien shadow. "Dance with me." Stefon whispers in Seth's ear, pulling him to the dance floor, who halfheartedly protests.

 

Seeing Stefon dance is like realizing there is some semblance of order in the universe. By no means is he a professional dancer, rather all the pent up energy in him that make him so fidgety in person and diluted with drugs, it all seems to leave him on the dance floor. It's kind of freeing, limbs thrashing into passerbys, mouthing the words, jumping to the rhythm, and pulling Seth in by his belt buckles. They progressively get closer till Stefon puts his arms on Seth's shoulders, their slight height difference suddenly emphasized. Seth's sure he's noticed before how blue Stefon's eyes are, and yet he's noticing it again.

 

"You can say no." Stefon says quietly as the song ends and the distance between them shrinking, offering an escape.

 

"Why would I do that?" Seth challenges, taking Stefon by surprise pulling him in and closing the gap between them.

  

 

Stefon adds a new favorite Seth Meyers saying his name, when he's moaning it.

 

x

 


	4. the beginning of a beautiful nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished it!!!!!!

Stefon isn't entirely sure how he even ended up on Studio 8H, or in the tourist death trap known as the Rockefeller Center and it feels like an out of body experience, which might have something to do with the pills he just popped.

It's all kind of a blur, David telling him he's gonna pitch a movie to a big time producer, Horn Micheals? And Stefon had replied he could win over any horny Michael and then a few other things happened including an Al Pacino impersonator dropping out last second, some gummy bears and Stefon was legally not allowed to divulge further information without being sued his ass off by NBC, Stefon found himself a new job: a city correspondent.

Okay, he knows he's not _actually_ from the New York Chamber Of Commerce, it's like playing a bit? He's supposed to talk about his clubs which is pretty much what he does on his own time except this time it would be on live television on a prime time cable network at midnight on a Saturday; all his friends are gonna be at work — so not nearly as fun as dragging someone unsuspecting in a club. But he's getting paid for it, like 10 bucks which is a great deal!

 

Saturday Night Live, Stefon finds, is quite tame and homely even, as painted red men carrying fern vases leave the offices and someone carrying an outrageous amount of wigs walk in, skinny lanyard and vest wearing sad people who look like they haven't slept in a week walk around with scripts and a pencil behind their ears, and hopeful looking interns scurry around for any excuse to meet someone in a fancier room. Most of all, Stefon likes that no one stares at him weird, with his hair and eyeliner and just generally not fitting in his own skin and basically curled up in a couch backstage looking at everyone like a suspicious cat detective, Sherlock Holmeows, no one even blinks at him. What a strange place he's in.

Right before he's about to go on for the first time, and apparently they have a dress rehearsal and then the actual show to see whether the room full of professional comedians are actually funny or not, he hears two people arguing in the hallway.

"What do you mean there's no Al Pacino —" muffled voices.

"Who's that?" Stefon asks the most Jewish American man, with the most going on; the hair, the voice, the caffeine withdrawal as the 'repertory cast member' as he proudly introduced himself slid off the couch and onto the black and white checkered floor.

"Oh, that's Seth, he's the head writer," the floor half shouts, towards a well fitted suit that's walking and arguing with lanyard and vest like a Sorkin movie. 

"You guys can't spring this shit on me last minute, it's my segment I—"

The well fitted suit materializes to carry a well fitted man in it, with high cheekbones and a frown.

"He's kinda hardass," the talking Afro continued. Boo. Stefon could put something hard in that —

"But he's cool." Yay. Stefon's new friend becomes one with the floor again, mumbling something about having a live sketch in 10 and if anyone's looking for an Andy, he's currently in snoozetown.

Headwriter Seth walks off to another hall, and Stefon finds an empty supply closet he can smoke a lung off in. To be perfectly candid, Stefon will remember very little of his first encounter at 30 Rock, not to be confused with his _first time_ at 30 Rock, which is remembered fondly.

Stefon couldn't tell if he's anxious, or if that's the sound of the live band and interns keep thinking he's famous and hands him flutes of champagne, which he downs as his birthright. Then, to be more chipper he does a few lines in the bathroom and bumps into [really funny story, but once again NBC would not take kindly to this leaking], and then a quick diazepam to not look too coked up, and his focus kind of blurs in and out of the bright, harsh lights when he's called to meet pretty boy headwriter Seth.

"Hi, I'm Seth Meyers and..." Seth smiles at him and Stefon's sure he's like, saying words, but those baby blues are so wide and earnest, and his voice is much softer than the exasperated one he heard in the hallway, or how he's like just an inch or two shorter than Stefon or how he smells vaguely like cologne and oranges or the little talking mice — 

"So all you have to do is read the cue cards that the writers went over with you." Silence. Sentence over. Speech finish. Respond, Stefon. 

"Yes, thank you, Seth Meyers." Nod. Wow, Stefon is nailing this, even though his gut feels like a murderous intent piano fell over it, and he's suddenly very aware that he has arms and no idea what to do with them. Why are long limbs a thing. Also why does his voice sound like Harvey Fierstein after three packs of cigarettes? 

"Okay, I'm gonna introduce you, then you show up, okay? You got this, Stefan."

"Stefon."

"Gotcha."

Stefon remembers nothing of the first show he did, but he knows it exists on the information superhighway in video format, where everyone can see him jittery on so many uppers and downers, scanning the crowd for David who kept getting dragged off by people cause he "looks like the guy from Good Will Hunting!" even though he looks nothing like Matt Damon, and not at all subtle quick glances at Seth Meyers, who kept reassuring him he was doing alright, even as Stefon started giggling and how it was a dying gay man under too many blanket's wet dream. 

After that show, Stefon would go home with too many drugs in system and sleep for 3 days straight. And for the whole week, he'd be convinced it was all a fever dream considering none of his friends even mentioned he was on TV, but a nagging feeling that he forgot something important would chase him which he chalked off to general paranoia of living in basically a dumpster with no functioning doorknobs. 

It isn't even until he gets a paycheck mailed to him, with the tiny colourful gay peacock NBC logo in the corner and address 30 Rock that brings him back to reality. 

The only thing Stefon really recalls is being disappointed they don't have a huge orgy at the end when everyone gathers on stage to fake congratulate each other as the credits roll.

_"Hey, I just wanted to thank you for filling in short notice. Anything can change last minute and that's really the beauty of it and also super nerve wracking, but yeah you were great. The audience loved you. We'd love to have you back again," perfunctory smile, the ease of professionalism, noneofthismattersjustgoawaystefon, and then a pause; hesitant, unsure and a little awkward, "It was Stefon, right?"_

 

It sounded just right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when i first started writing this, i wanted to write a fic that explores the depths of their friendship and more, from start to finish. this was not that fic.
> 
> but i hope you enjoyed your way to the end/to the beginning.


End file.
